


A Witch’s memories

by annitrn



Category: Fate/Grand Order, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-11-04 07:21:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17893985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annitrn/pseuds/annitrn
Summary: A/n: I’ve always loved Medea and for some reason I want to ride the pain train right now (which is unusual), so yeah. Have a short drabble of the darkest time in Medea’s life rewritten by me. (You’re allowed to kill me for this)_______“Here are the women with ancient anger in their veinsand the cruelty of a goddess in their hearts.You will beg before her, you will scream;but Hera never flinched from the words of a mortal,so why should she?Do not stand in her way.She will burn down your kingdoms, herself with it,if it meant your ruin.”— EURIPIDES, MEDEA





	A Witch’s memories

**Author's Note:**

> A/n: I’ve always loved Medea and for some reason I want to ride the pain train right now (which is unusual), so yeah. Have a short drabble of the darkest time in Medea’s life rewritten by me. (You’re allowed to kill me for this)  
> _______
> 
> “Here are the women with ancient anger in their veins   
> and the cruelty of a goddess in their hearts. 
> 
> You will beg before her, you will scream;   
> but Hera never flinched from the words of a mortal, 
> 
> so why should she? 
> 
> Do not stand in her way.   
> She will burn down your kingdoms, herself with it,   
> if it meant your ruin.”
> 
> — EURIPIDES, MEDEA

Those memories and actions would always haunt her, over the divide of death and decades that would follow.

She had seen it coming. Even if she had been blinded by the gods and the burning love for a man she betrayed her whole country for. She had felt the ending creeping behind her back but turned a blind eye to it. Every time he smiled at the princess, young and beautiful, something inside her shattered. And yet she decided to believe in him, believe in their love until it destroyed her in one big blow and she could only hold onto the bloodied shards of their love.

He had broken her heart, twisted her whole being into someone her younger self would have feared and abhorred. She had betrayed and killed her loved ones for  _him_ , she had endured burning hatred and allegations for  _him_ , had devoted her very being to  _him_. She had done anything he asked for, given him whatever he wished for. And yet he abandoned her - after she had abandoned everything for him.

And she, she had been so foolish to give him permission to do so. To let him trample over her, break her heart and shatter her soul. Until Medea, the Princess of Colchis, Medea, the unfortunate Princess used by the Gods, Medea, the young girl with the bright eyes and even brighter soul no longer existed. Until only the scorned, wicked witch was left with nothing but fiery hatred burning in her veins like liquid fire and a bitterness she never thought could take root.

And if the world already decided to brand her as a witch, why shouldn’t she show them how cold and unforgiving she could really be. If the Gods allowed him to destroy her whole life, to make her feel like her soul and her everything were an abomination that should have never existed, then she would pay him back thousandfold. She would bear this grudge until she died or enacted her revenge, whichever came first.

Hatred and thousand other emotions were throbbing through her veins as she drenched the sparkling, silky dress in poison. She continued to rub the gift on the pretty, golden coronet, ignoring her breathing, that came out hitched and interrupted by convulsing sobbing when she remembered his smile. A smile, so genuinely warm with just the right touch of mischief, that it was able to break hearts. A smile, that she would eradicate from his face until he was nothing more but a broken caricature of himself. 

Mercy was better than revenge. Deep inside herself she knew it. But it didn’t undo the shattering devastation she had felt when he left her, it didn’t undo the sharp pain that seared through her veins whenever she woke up hoping this was just a nightmare, only to realize that it was the cold, harsh reality. She wouldn’t forgive, nor would she forget. The world could fall apart, if only she got to enact her revenge.

And so she watched with satisfaction as the princess got engulfed by fire, burning bright and merciless. Smiled, when the princess screamed in anguish while the flames hungrily flickered over her dress, her skin and waving hair, until they caught over to her horrified father. And laughed with malicious glee when she heard  _his_ aghast screams upon discovering his dying bride.

And so, the Witch of Colchis was born. Forged in fire and bewrayment she would walk the path of vengeance until it consumed her entirely.


End file.
